The Hollow Log
by EfinityFabala
Summary: Two cats are banished from their clan and become rouges. They try to replicate the life of the home that they had loved. Intrigued and confused by their parents' past, the kits of these banished cats vow to find out everything they can about the clans...


A hollow log made a perfect den for a cat.

Shelter, several entrances and exits, small, cozy space to curl up in.

Some cats even eat the grubs that were found in dead wood. But only if they _really_ need to, or simply have a taste for creepy-crawlies. Most cats find it rather disgusting. Anyway, what were we talking about? Hollow logs. (This is a writer's strategy; forget what you were talking about, it gets the reader interested somehow...)

Moving on, cats are always one of several things: Clan, loner, rouge, kittypet. The distinct difference between loner and rouge is important for you to understand, reader, especially if you plan on continuing to read this manuscript.

Loners travel by themselves by choice, fully content with the fact that they do not have a permanent home. Believe it or not, many cats find solitude most enjoyable. They get to experience a large variety of different settings, meet many kinds of cats, try different food. They have no problem with visiting a Twoleg once in a while.

Rouges. Rouges have either been driven out of a Clan or a Twoleg home. They are unhappy with whatever life they are stuck with. They have no Clan, but may try to replicate Clan life in a different setting. For instance, a rouge may chose to hunker down in the same den for an extensive period of time, or as long as possible before they are sought out and chased away. Rouges are stereotyped to be hostile and dirty. That is not always the case. Some of them come to terms with their defeat, and move on. But, this does not necessarily qualify them as loners. Loners left their home by choice, or were born into lonership. The difference is in how one entered one's life.

Fortunately for the rouges, one's title does not define one's life. Rouges can still live and be happy, despite the hatred that others may feel for them.

Kittypets. There are several kinds of kittypets. There is the Happy Kittypet, the Unsatisfied Kittypet (Rusty, to name one), and there is the Ignorant or Lazy Kittypet. The definitions are self-explanatory. I trust that you can figure it out.

There is also a fifth category, half-hidden beneath the messy divide between rouges and loners.

These cats live near Twoleg dwellings, in large Twolegplaces or in alleyways. The correct term is "alley cat," but others have come up with titles that better fit these cats' general attitudes. They are called "kittypet leftovers," "kittypet wannabes," or, on occasion, "Twoleg scum."

These names are reserved for the unfortunate cats who hang around near Nofurs, Upwalkers, Flat-faces, whatever you want to call them. Cats who can think of no better way to live than to scavenge Twoleg trash and mewl pitifully at Twoleg doors. Unfortunately, they are generally rejected by the owners of the nests. Shame. They are mostly good cats, born into hard times or abandoned by their owners.

We join two cats, rouges, by definition, driven from their Clan. What Clan? Is that really important? They can't swim well though, so it must not be RiverClan.

These two cats were banished together, under undefined circumstances. They fled the Clan hunting grounds and found their own grassy spot with a few oak trees and no Clan-scent for many tree-lengths.

They decided to stick together, having heard stories about cats chased from their Clans, wandering alone until they were far weakened, then stumbling upon some hungry badger… They decided to stick together, to hunt together and fight side-by-side if the need arose.

"Streakpaw and Ashpaw, you cannot run away from your father like you did last time. Stay in the nest. Don't go play or hunt unless he permits you. Promise me by StarClan!"

Did I forget to mention? The two rouges had kits, and gave them Clan names, as Clan names were the only names that they knew. Streakpaw and Ashpaw, two she-cats. Their brother born dead.

"I promise by StarClan!" Ashpaw mewed. It thrilled her to speak of StarClan. She wanted to visit StarClan, to tell them about her parents being run out of their Clan. She wanted them to bring her family back home… wherever "home" was.

"I promise by StarClan," Streakpaw grumbled. She crouched at her mother's paws, vowing by the dead guys that her parents worshipped.

"Good." Kestreltail licked the tops of her daughters' heads swiftly. "Pondfur?"

"Whaa?" Pondfur, previously asleep, lifted his head. His left front leg was bent out at an awkward angle, hindering his step perhaps forever. Stupid dog.

"Watch them," Kestreltail meowed curtly. She touched her nose to her mate's ear and bounded out of the den, into daylight. Does anyone have a guess as to where they are bunking? Here's a hint: hollow log. Oops. That was the answer. Well, I would have told you anyway, even if you'd forgotten the very first statement I made.

Moving on; the family had lived in this hollow log since moments before Kestreltail's kitting. It had been raining. Kestreltail had been in pain, but she refused to stop and have her kits in the cold pattering wetness. Leaning heavily on Pondfur, she had made her way to the log she'd seen while strolling about a quarter-moon ago. It was perfect. She'd kitted successfully… all except for the tom.

Ashpaw felt her sister get frustrated and fidgety. Streakpaw was digging her claws into the soft rotting bark. Ashpaw stood up and sighed wistfully. Daylight was very clear from this angle. Although one end of the hollow log was submerged in hardened mud, the other end was clearly exposed to the outside world.

"We're apprentice age, though," Ashpaw reasoned. "We shouldn't have to stay inside."

"Try telling that to Mother," Streakpaw growled, tearing up clumps of the bark.

"Let's just go," Ashpaw decided, striding forward towards the light. She looked back, for she never did anything without Streakpaw's opinion.

Streakpaw's yellow eyes glowed from the darkness behind. "Sounds fun."

Ashpaw was reddish-brown, a darker version of her mother, but with her father's build. Streakpaw was stripy gray-and-white, which Pondfur said reminded him of his own mother.

Pondfur himself was pale brown with brown-and-green eyes. He was always tired and not very willing to think or fight. Ashpaw wished that she could have a father to be proud of. She adored Pondfur, at times, but mostly his laziness was just aggravating.

"Pondfur, can we please go hunting?" Ashpaw always tried asking first. She felt several sky-lengths better if she had someone's approval.

"Ashpaw, your mother said _no_." Pondfur's words were gently slurred. His eyes held that dull, bored look that they always did. His usual excuse.

"But we'll bring you back a mouse," Ashpaw promised, touching his paw with hers. "There's no danger out there."

"That's not true!" Pondfur exclaimed, his eyes going briefly wild. "There are dogs, badgers. Look at what that dog did to me! I'll never hunt or run properly again!" he wailed. Ashpaw had never seen him so distressed. She gently pressed her chin to the top of his head. The pressure calmed him a little, or perhaps it merely restrained him.

"Get some rest. We'll be back really soon," Ashpaw promised. "Come on." She beckoned to Streakpaw with her tail. With a wary, slightly angry glance at the alarmed-looking Pondfur, she prowled to Ashpaw's side. "Get some sleep!" Ashpaw called over her shoulder, glancing back in time to see Pondfur's head drift to his paws, his eyes closed in anticipation of sleep…


End file.
